Behind Blue Eyes
by Konsui's Little Brother
Summary: Sokka has the bluest eyes that anyone at Nations High has ever seen. They're clear and pure, and they are hiding something much deeper, much worse, than anyone would ever guess. And now, his life is crumbling around him, and he can't stop it. AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not only is this my first written attempt at Zuko/Sukka, this is also my first attempt at something a little darker. It was inspired by me getting sick of all the stories out there for this pairing revolving around Zuko having such a rotten life. I was sick of it, started typing, and this is what you got.

Full Summary: Sokka has the bluest eyes that anyone at Nations High has ever seen. They're clear and pure and they are hiding something much deeper, much worse, than anyone would ever guess. And now, his life is crumbling around him, falling and ending and there's nothing he can do about it. So what happens when Zuko, who had been living a happy life up until then, gets pulled into the Water-Tribe boy's personal Hell? Rated T for blood, abuse, and the occasional curse word.

* * *

...Sokka thought to himself as he trudged down the dirt road leading to his house. Only it wasn't really his house, it was his Uncle Rut's house. He had been living there with his little sister Katara for a few years now, ever since their father had passed away in the Four Nations War.

Small, dirty, little houses lined the curved street that he was on. The only people that lived here, on The Boomerang (named for the curved shape of the street), were white-trash and psychos. Or people that were so dirt-poor they couldn't afford anything better. This fact was re-slammed into him as a car-alarm went off near him and a group of tall, lanky looking boys went running in the oppisite direction.

Yep. Just another day living on The Boomerang.

Not that it was where he wanted to live. It was where he had to live. Uncle Rut was the only living relative that the two Mizaki kids had and Sokka wouldn't be eight-teen, old enough to by his own house for Katara to live a happy life in, for another two years. Even then, he wouldn't have the money. Their uncle was a stingy, cruel, abusive man and, if he could help it, the two kids wouldn't be leaving his house for a while longer.

Heck, the only reason that Katara and himself were able to go to school was because the state made them. The rest of their lives were practically spent in the dilapadeted shack that they called a home. It was that or get the crap beaten out of you (in Sokka's case) and your head screamed off (in his sister's) and Sokka much preferred not to be beaten into oblivion more than he had to be.

Which was why, like always, he'd come straight home from school. And, like always, the door was opened by Katara. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and her clothes, jeans with holes that weren't there when they were bought and a faded out green t-shirt, were obviously what she had worn to school. Her eyes, the same shade of blue as the sky on its clearest day, were rimmed with red. She'd been crying.

"Katara? What's wrong? What happened?" His sister always got home earlier than him, due to the fact that her school was much closer than his, and something always ended up happening in the time it took him to get home. None the less, the worry in his voice was still evident.

"I'm sorry, Sokka. I tried to stop him but Uncle completely destroyed it!" Katara sniffed lightly as she stepped aside, opening the door up further so that Sokka could walk into the house.

The moment he did, it was clear what she had been talking about. His science project was completely destroyed. The once tall paper mache volcanoe, complete with dinosaur figures made out of crackers to go with the nacho cheese sauce that the volcanoe erupted, was scattered about the living room floor. And it was due tomorrow. There was no way that he'd be able to re-make it in time.

"My..." His voice trailed off as foot-steps started down the stairs. There was no doubt about who it was; Uncle Rut was the only other person in the house. This wasn't going to end well. He cold just tell.

Straightening himself up from where he'd been kneeling next to the shattered project, Sokka turned his gaze to where Katara was standing. "Hey, 'Tara? Why don't you head to the kitchen? I'll be there in a bit. Okay?"

Of course, Katara didn't buy it. And, of course, Sokka made her go any ways. It was the only good thing about Rut; no matter how much he hit and punched and beat Sokka, the worst he would do to Katara was yell at her. Unless she tried to stop him when he was ticked off at Sokka. So as long as she was out of the way, she would be fine.

"So-kka!" And the next thing he knew, his uncle was back-handing him across the face. A yelp escaped Sokka's throat as he stumbled backwards away from the other man. His face was stinging; a red mark already forming where he'd been slapped.

"What've I told ya 'bout leavin' yer crap layin' 'round here? Huh?" The fact that Sokka had placed his project in the hall closet, where no one would be able to bump into it, evidently didn't matter. Rut was just in one of his 'have-to-go-to-work-so-I'll-beat-up-Sokka' moods. And Sokka had learned a while ago that it was best for him to just be quiet and take it.

And take it he did.

Punch to the gut, the stomache, the chest. Rut was smart enough not to stray too far from the areas that his shirts, long-sleeved of course, would cover. Sokka could already feel the bruises forming, both on his torso and on his arms where Rut was holding him at, but he was smart enough not to scream. Screaming made it worse.

Time passed with out Sokka actually noticing. That happened when you were being beaten, he supposed. All of a sudden, he was hurled to the ground with the order to 'clean that junk up', as Rut stormed out of the house.

For several long and rather pain flled minutes, Sokka let himself lay on the ground. Then the scent of dirt and the realization that Katara was still waiting for him in the kitchen had him pushing himself up. He swayed for a moment, useing the wall to keep himself up, before he put on the best 'fine' face that he had and started to hobble off towards the kitchen.

The moment that he pushed the door open, walking from their small living room into the kitchen that was barely big enough for both teens to be inside of at once, Katara had lunged at him and thrown her arms around his neck. "Oh, Sokka! Are you okay? Let me see you!" The words burbled from her mouth almost quicker than he could understand.

Disentangling her neck arms from his neck, Sokka held his sister at arms length. It was impossible to stop the wince from being on his face when he moved but, seeing as he'd had worse from the older man, he figured that he was fine. It wasn't even like he'd had ribs broken this time.

"Katara, relax. I'm fine. Really!" He gave the younger girl a reassuring smile. It was obvious to both of them that he wasn't fine, he was never fine any more, but she didn't argue. She wanted to believe that he was fine too badly to argue with him. It wasn't like he was going to admit that he wasn't fine any ways. Instead, he gave his sister that still shaky, still pained, smile and asked her, "Think you can help me pick up the pieces to my project?"

When Sokka finally made it up to his room, the first thing he did, right after closing his door, was take off his shirt and toss it onto his bed. Unsurprisingly, it landed perfectly in the center of it. His room wasn't very large, barely big enough for the bed and more then half empty dresser that were there, but he'd gotten used to that fact. The only other substantial thing to note in his room, at least that someone could see, was the large full-body mirror propped up in one corner of the room.

It was to this mirror that Sokka was sulking his way over to. He wanted to see just how bad off his body looked before he crawled into bed for the night. That way, he'd know how dark of a shirt he would have to wear the next morning. If the bruises were too dark, too there, then he'd have to find one of his black turtle-necks to pull on the next day.

And yet he still ended up standing in front of the mirror, eyes locked on his feet, for several moments before Sokka actually looked up and at his reflection. For all the years that he'd been beaten senseless by his uncle, he still couldn't get himself over the hate, the fear, he felt when he actually saw his own injuries. Let alone his own blood. It had taken him months before he was able to even look in the mirror when he had a broken nose!

But he had to do it because he refused to show Katara his injuries. She didn't deserve to see that. To have that image burned into her mind for the rest of her life. Not like he had. No, she deserved to be as happy in this pathetic excuse for a life that they lived as she could be. And if that meant that he had to buck up and force himself not to puke his dinner all over the floor; then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, Sokka lifted his head up so his eyes met the body of his reflection...And felt his stomache clench uncomfortably. Dark bruises, hideous shades of black and purple, marred his stomache and chest. They were mixed in with the mottled shades of yellow, green, blues, and purples; old bruises that hadn't yet healed and probably would never get the chance to fully dissapear.

Marks of similar colors littered his arms. Unlike the thick blotches that covered the majority of his torso though, these were shaped in lines that curved around to the underside of his arm. His uncle had a very tight grip and when he wanted Sokka to be still then, Spirits be forgotten, Sokka was not going to be able to move away.

Other marks of abuse littered his body, making his stomache twist even more as he looked over the older injuries. Half-healed cuts, some from nails, others from glass bottles that had been smashed against him, littered his frame. On one side, the sensitive spot right at the base of his ribcage, held marks of ciggarettes being put out on his skin.

He did his best not to think about the damage that he must have taken internally. But he knew that there must be something wrong there. You didn't go years like he had, with little to no medical attention, being beaten as frequently as he was, and not have something wrong with the inside of you. It just didn't work that way.

Instead, he focused himself to look only at the new bruises. The ones that stood dark against the rest of them. They weren't actually all that bad, at least not compared to some of the others that he had gotten, but they were still pretty dark. Sokka sighed as he stepped away from the mirror, turning instead to crawl into his bed.

Black turtleneck it was.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Finally the next chapter is up! Sorry for the wait, I got caught up writing Truth Behind Lies and just realized how long it's been since I updated this story. I hope this explains some things and that I still have some readers!

* * *

"Good morning, Zuko! It is about time that you woke up. I was beggining to think that I would have to go and wake you up myself." Uncle Iroh sent a cheerful wave at his nephew as the boy wandered into the kitchen.

Zuko, contrasting his Uncle's cheery attitude, merely grunted as he pulled himself into one of the chairs at the bar-area his uncle was sitting on. Not that it contained actuall liquer any more. Iroh had replaced all of that with tea and the things he needed to create tea the night that he moved in.

The bar, like the rest of the large kitchen, was still fancy looking. The top was a pearly looking marble and the wood work was the same as the rest of the house. A deep mahogany wood, real of course, with intricate carvings in it. Zuko had always hated it but Iroh was a fan on it, something about it being 'something he would come to apreciate in later years', so it had stayed. Just like over half of the furniture that had belonged to his parents. Both of which were dead.

His mother, the kindest woman that Zuko had ever known (and the kindest Iroh had ever known), had died when Zuko and his sister, Azula, were just young kids.

His father, Ozai, was only killed around five years ago. When his sister, who had always had problems mentally, had snapped and killed him. Unlike his mother though, Zuko didn't miss his father. Ozai had been the cause of most, if not all, of his misery growing up. And anyways, how could he miss the person that had scarred him for life. Literally. His father was the reason that half of his face was covered in a hideous burn scar. Zuko had mostly gotten over that being there, though he wished people would stop staring at it.

Ozai had been a horrible person but most of his rage had been focused on Azula. Zuko had gotten away with a few scars, most noticably the one covering the left half of his face, and a lot of bad memories. His sister, on the other hand, was always on the recieving end of their fathers fist.

It really hadn't been a surprise to any one when she had finally snapped. Zuko hadn't even been at home that day but the image was still burned in his mind. How he had come home to see Azula sitting in the corner of kitchen, butcher knife in her hand, and a puddle of blood around her. They had commited her right away after that, no investigation into why she had lost it and killed their father, and Zuko had been left to take over the Ryuzo Inc.

Of course, he wasn't alone in it. His uncle, Iroh, had stepped up to the role of a father-figure quite well. Having moved into the mansion right away and not only teaching Zuko how to run the business but, for the most part, running it on his own. Iroh said he'd hand the reigns over to Zuko when he was out of school and done growing up.

"So, nephew, are you ready to head off to school this morning?" Iroh asked as he poured a second cup of tea. "I would suggest that you bring another layer. It is supposed to be a cold rain this evening and you don't want to catch a chill."

"Yes, Uncle. I'll make sure I bring my rain-coat with me. But...Isn't Teo going to be picking me up today?" Zuko raised an eye-brow at the older man as he took the offered china cup.

Teo was one of the few members of 'hired help', not servents like they had been when Ozai was alive, that had stayed around after Zuko took over the mansion. He generally drove the teen around when Zuko had to go somewhere. And Zuko honestly couldn't remember the last time that Teo hadn't picked him up from school. It was just something that the older man always did.

"Just because Teo is picking you up doesn't mean you shouldn't be prepared, Nephew. If the car broke down and you had to walk home, what would you do then? Why you would be as wet as a fish!" The older man laughed at his own joke before taking a sip of his own tea, a pleased look making its way onto his face.

Zuko sighed and rubbed the side of his head. His uncle was so...odd...sometimes. There really were just no other words to describe the aged man aside from that. But he supposed that was just a part of Iroh's charm. "Alright, Uncle. I'll make sure to bring my rain coat with me. Just in case."

-000-

His life really wasn't all that bad any more, Zuko mused on his way to school. Teo had, as usual, picked him up and they were well on their way there now. And for some reason or another that thought had just pushed its way into Zuko's mind.

After the day that his father had...passed...and Azula had been carted away to spend her life in a mental institution, his life had actually been relatively nice. Sure, it took a few weeks to get used to everything but, really, none of it was anything that he could complain over. It was all good stuff.

Like his Uncle moving into the mansion with him and the fact that he pretty much had the run of the place now. Even having to help out at his Uncle's tea-shop, the Jasmine Dragon, wasn't so bad. Especially since the only reason he had to help there was because his Uncle had practically taken over running the Ryuzo Inc. for him so that he could still have a chance of a semi-normal childhood. Something that he'd be forever grateful to the older man for, even if he never openly said anything.

Zuko shook himself from his thoughts as the sports-car slowed to a stop in front of Nations High. He grabbed his bag, pushed open the door, and nodded towards his driver. "Thanks for the ride, Teo."

He nudged the door shut behind him and started to push his way through the crowd of students milling around. Most of them were carrying around their science-projects, twisting through the crowds and trying not to drop them, but none of them looked all that impressive. Just standard volcanoes.

Zuko's was already tucked away in his locker. He'd finished it the day before during his free-period so he'd just left it there. He figured that there wasn't any point in lugging it to his house and then back to school the next day.

The volcanoe project was actually the only reason that he was looking foreward to Piando's class that day. He figured that most of them would just be the lame paper-mache volcanoes you saw eveyrwhere but he was actually pretty excited about seeing Sokka's project.

The Water-Tribe boy had been bragging about it all week which meant that it was going to be amazing. Zuko didn't doubt that it would be; Sokka's work was always cool to look at. Unfortuantly, his friend was nowhere to be seen in the crowd and Zuko was forced to go to first period without finding him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm so sorry for how awful this chapter is! I think that I made it too choppy...I hope you guys don't mind though. The next chapter will be a bit in coming because, not only does it have to be written, but I'm entering a contest for a different fandom. I'm posting the contest entries I have written up already later today so...I any of you are interested in the One Piece fandom, why not check it out?

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

It was official. Today was the worst day Sokka had had all week. And, seeing as it was Thursday and the week was almost over, and giving his currant living conditions, that was really saying something. But it was true. Completely and utterly true.

First, there was the fact that Science had been his first class of the day. And, of course, he didn't have his project. Now, Piando was a patient teacher. He also happened to be Sokka's favorite teacher and Sokka was one of his favorite and best students. But Piando still said that it wasn't any excuse. The project had been one they had all been working on for weeks, weeks, and he hadn't had anything to turn in for it. Sokka guessed he understood, but still, it hadn't been his fault.

Then, later at lunch, Zuko had cornered him and demanded to know what had happened to his project. That was what Sokka got for bragging about his project all week though. It was suppossed to be the best one in the class. It would've been the best one in the class too if Rut hadn't crushed it into thousands of little tiny pieces.

He'd been forced to come up with some half-baked, completely unbuyable, excuse about how he had dropped it that morning on the way to school. And Zuko, obviously, didn't buy it. Luckily for him, Sokka supposed, the older teen was not the prying type and had let it be.

Then came the rest of the day. Class after boring class...Most of which he'd been informed that if he didn't start getting all of his home-work brought in on time in, they'd fail him. Once again, like it was his freakin' fault! Rut was always tearing his school-work up and then he wasn't able to get another copy of it unless he could get a hold of Zuko; a feat that rarely happened because the older teen was always doing something.

And it certaintly wasn't his fault that it was pouring down rain. Absolutely freakin' pouring! Thunder, lightening, a rough wind coming from the north; the works. And he was stuck walking home from school, like he was everyday.

So his sulking was perfectly justifiable. More than justifiable, really.

He was actually only a few feet away from the school, though he was still completely and utterly soaked, when the car pulled up beside him. Well, car probably wasn't the best way to describe it. It was more like a half-limo, stark white with no mud or dirt, and it was impossible not to know who was in it even before they had rolled their window down. The only person with a car like that in the whole city was Zuko.

One of the back, black tinted, windows rolled down to reveal said boy raising a questioning eyebrow at the darker teen. "You want a lift, Sokka?"

And how much Sokka wanted to yank the door open, climb into the limo, and just collapse into one of the seats like he was expected too. But he didn't. He paused in his walking, as the limo came to a complete stop, and shifted awkwardly where he was standing.

There were only two people that knew where Sokka lived, Katara's class mates Aang and Toph, and he wasn't all that keen on having Zuko gain that little bit of knowledge. Zuko, his best friend, who lived in a mansion and was practically swimming in money. On top of that, who knew what would happen to the limo's tires going down the rode he lived on? There was broken glass and bits of twisted metal everywhere! Then Sokka would have to ome up with the money, out of guilt, to repair the car!

"I-I'll ruin your seats." Sokka rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face. "Besides, I live way far from your place Zuko."

The pale teen was not convinced. Instead, he leaned across from where he was sitting and pushed the car door open himself. "Just get in the car, you idiot. The seats can be cleaned easily."

And, because there weren't any more excuses he could use without acting like something was up, Sokka gave Zuko a half-smile and climbed into the car. The moment that the door was shut, the Water Tribe boy had barely gotten his seat-belt hooked, they were rolling down the road and away from the school.

"Um, thanks for the ride. I guess. I was just fine walking home, though, you know..." Sokka grumbled as he sunk into the plush, red leather seats. How leather could be as soft as this stuff was, especially leather that was used for a cars apohlstry, Sokka didn't have the slightest clue. He did however know that it beat any of the chairs at Rut's house. Or the couch. Or the beds. Or, well, anything really.

Zuko just nodded at him, narrow hazel eyes looking out the window as they drove. There was silence for a few minutes, the sound of the rain hitting the car roof the only real noise for quite a bit, before Zuko turned to look at him. "What direction do you live? Teo can drive you there before he takes me home."

A grunt from upfront confirmed that 'Teo' could evidently care less who he was driving where.

"Uh, take a right off of 45th. Then left at the light. I'll tell you the rest from there." Or, if he was lucky, he'd walk the rest of the way home. Walking was a much better alternative, Sokka couldn't help but think, than having Zuko drop him off at The Boomerang. Let alone in front of the dilapadated pile of wood he called a house.

Sokka didn't think that he could take the embarrassment after having had to deal with the teachers all day.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_Brriiing. Brrriing. Brii-_

"Whaddya want?" Rut's voice came out little more than a slurred rumble, the words riddled with sleep, and a yawn followed them. He'd been passed out on the couch most of the morning and he didn't appreciate being woken up before the brats got back.

_"This is Mister Rut, I presume? My name is Piando. I am Sokka's Science teacher."_

"Yeah? He do somethin' wrong?" Of course the boy was the reason his sleep was interrupted, just a few hours before he had to leave for the ship-yard too. The boy was always the reason things went wrong for Rut.

_"Not wrong persay. I am just a little worried about him. His work in school is going down drastically, half of the time he does not even bring anything in. I have not done any thing for his grades yet but, if things do not start going back to normal, I am afraid notes will have to be put on his record. Unless you know how you could help him out?"_

Dark scowl crossing Rut's chubby features, dark green eyes narrowing dangerously, Rut pushed himself up off the couch. He could hear the girl knocking to be let in now, that meant that Sokka would be along shortly too. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's tak'n care of."


End file.
